


The river god

by Tyellas



Series: Lab T-4 [2]
Category: The Shape of Water (2017)
Genre: Animals, Canon Compliant, Gen, Poignant, Pre-Movie(s), Strickland cameo, dolphins being jerks, except for dolphins, tranquil nature
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 03:28:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12950334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyellas/pseuds/Tyellas
Summary: Who is the amphibian man when he’s at home, in the Amazon river?





	The river god

He lifts his head above the water, one creature among many. Along this Amazon tributary, dawn is a rustling cacophany of bird and insect sounds. To him, living for aeons, the animals change all the time. He remains the same: scaled and gilled, walker and swimmer, between animal and god. His mind scarcely notes these categories. To him, he simply _is_.

He gazes around the dry air, absorbed in the moment. Outside the water, everything is crisp and brilliant. Today, a cluster of capybaras lounges on the river bank. Turtles and birds keep them company. A sleepy peccary picks her way between them all, tapping delicately to the river's edge. She drinks, then wanders along the shore. The animal harmony makes it a pleasure for him to bask nearby.

From the trees overhead comes excited trilling. He turns up and sees two green parrots, bouncing on a branch. One parrot dances for him, squawking and chirruping, showing off. The second one, shyer, darts to one side and nips off an orchid flower. She lets it go. The orchid lands in front of him, floating on the water's surface. For an instant, the orchid’s shape and fragrance, soft and luscious, absorb him. When the blossom’s tender pink ruffles begin to sink, he plucks it from the water and eats it.

The parrots shriek in piercing delight. They complete their happiness by starting to groom each other. As he watches them, the past surfaces in him. Once, there were others...

Eventually, the parrots fly off. The knowing, and the ache of it, sinks once more. He, too, submerges.

Usually, the water holds a different peace. All his many senses engage, tasting the estuarine shifts, feeling currents, magnetism, presences. Today, what strikes him first is troubled sound. Evil clicking and squeaking cuts through the water. His gills go stiff in angry response. He turns and launches himself into the river’s silty flow.

Amidst the dusky water, two river dolphins are cruising. They are very obviously male, large and pink, raked with scars. They are closing in on a grey female dolphin. There is one on each side, harrying her and her pup. A sense of malice, too much intelligence, sharpens their moves and chitters. It is all unbalanced, jarring, unnecessary. The males could mate with each other, instead of using force out of season. 

The dolphin pup utters a distressed wail.

He surges in. He strikes faster than the current, slashing at one male, coming up from beneath and punching the other. That one turns to fight him. He tackles that dolphin and drags down, strength flowing into him from the river. It is easy to hold the air-breather under until it began to thrash. He releases it.

The males both surrender, flee. He swims up and treads in place, in front of the female dolphin and the pup. The pup bobs closer. He sparks up some phosporescence. When the pup squeaks, he smiles. But the grey female noses her way between them. Unlike the parrots, her racing mind ignores his energy. She opens her jaw, shrilling in terror. _Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou_ _—_

He stays calm, understanding. She does not know him. He is alone, is only. Other beings with two legs have given her this fear.

A shadow falls over them all. The dolphin stops short and swims for her life, her pup scooting after.

He looks up. In the water above, the light is being blocked by a long shape. It is not a caiman, or another dolphin. The shape is, itself, dead: one of the strange shells the two-legs use to intrude on his world. He’d learned that, when they came in the shells, the two-legs did not want to see him. If they wanted him to come close, they let him know. Sometimes they still their minds and approach him as the river animals do: wounded, damaged, needing change. When they do that, he gives them the change that brings the most balance. Life renewed, or clean death.

The two-legs had been seeking him less and less. He’d been seeing the floating shells more and more. And the shells were getting larger.

One of the two-legs in the shell laces a limb into the water. He watches, astonished. The limb is the same clammy pink as the male dolphins. One digit of the limb catches the light with a gleam of gold.

The water around him comes alive. Piranhas dart past him towards the pink flesh, their shearing teeth flashing. He does not stop them as he had stopped the dolphins. These fish are only hungry, not cruel. Before the piranhas can feed, there is a burst of calls, and the limb withdraws into the dry. A net dips down and scoops out some piranhas. Those who sought to eat will be eaten instead.

He hovers still amidst silt and weeds. That pale limb had been new. But it is a small change, in a lifespan so full of them. It weaves itself into the wordless net of his thoughts and memories.

He dives, turns, rockets back to the dark peace of his home lagoon.

**Author's Note:**

> Dovetails with this [Shape of Water official novel extract.](https://io9.gizmodo.com/the-shape-of-water-novel-does-much-much-more-than-adap-1820895586?IR=T)


End file.
